


Next of Kin

by AnnieAmi



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal, Angst, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Foot Massage, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Margaret Scully - Freeform, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Married Sex, PWP without Porn, Poor Mulder, Porn with minimal Plot, Pregnancy, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, William "Bill" Scully Jr. - Freeform, so much sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieAmi/pseuds/AnnieAmi
Summary: Scully wakes up to the realization that everything might be different for her and Mulder now.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 27
Kudos: 138





	1. Rock the Boat

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd and just for fun because we all need an escape after 2020.

Scully drifts into consciousness, awakened by a gentle rocking. The remnants of a dream still linger on her mind. She sailed the seven seas and Captain Mulder barked orders at the small crew. Everyone scrambled because a deadly storm was rapidly approaching. They were hunting monsters of the deep, or maybe searching for the Bermuda Triangle, and angelic mermaids waved at them in their wake as Scully tried in vain to steer their hulking ship. She fought to keep it steady in the churning waters. The storm had proven to be disastrous.

The rocking behind her intensifies. Scully’s eyes blink open to a slit of light through heavy curtains, her vision still a blur through squinting eyes. The room is large and unfamiliar. This is not her bedroom and it is nicer, and cleaner, than most of the motels she and Mulder would choose on the government’s dime. The room is rustic, yet chic.

Something long and hard meets Scully’s backside and her eyes shoot open in surprise. The hard object glides up and down the crease in the back of her panties and she pushes her ass backward into it so that it pokes her sensitive puckered spot. It is deliciously sexy. 

Outside the rain patters against the window. The nightstand clock reads 10:13. They slept in. Though, after a night of passionate lovemaking, she’s not surprised. God, that had not been lovemaking. She can’t call it that. Or even sex. Fucking. That’s what it had been. Plain and simple.

The distant memories of the last month come back to her like the half-forgotten dream. There was the private proposal in a dimly-lit room and the very brief time she had called him her fiance. That word had felt so foreign on her tongue. Fiance had never quite fit. But, then, neither did boyfriend. Or lover. She couldn't pinpoint a single word in the English language that would be fitting for the paramount position he held in her life. So, in the absence of an appropriate title, she had simply used his name when introducing him to her family. She remembered the short but sweet ceremony. And, of course, there was the way they had fucked that very first time after saying, “I do.” It was possessive and loving. They belonged to each other. 

Her life is different now. Everything is different. 

What will these changes mean for her and Mulder? What will it mean for their work? Things are certain to change between them. But she is happy right now and there will be plenty of time to figure all that out later. 

Scully is in bed with her husband and he is rock hard against her ass. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come...


	2. Deep

Scully blinks awake at the memory of her 36th birthday.

The last-minute birthday dinner at Maggie’s turned out to be less awkward than she’d anticipated. Her mother had called the night before, insisting that she come.

“Bill and Tara are in town. And I’ll make your favorite cake,” Maggie had offered.

“I don’t know, Mom. I kind of have plans already,” replied Scully meekly, rolling her eyes at the pathetic attempt for an excuse. 

“Bring him,” Maggie replied knowingly. “It’ll be fun.”

Scully is perpetually bewildered at her mother’s ability to assess her children’s romantic lives quickly and efficiently and wonders if all mothers possess such empathic powers. She suspects most do and considered the possibilities of a birthday dinner. Bill was in town and she would be bringing a date for the first time in years. Fun was not the word she’d have used, but, on the other hand, she did not want to disappoint her mom. Family dinners were few and far between and this had the potential for disaster.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” promised Scully.

To her surprise, it had been a nice evening. Dinner conversation flowed easily and Bill had not chastised or ridiculed her work. He had, in fact, been completely cordial, smiling and making polite conversations through only slightly-gritted teeth. It was a very pleasant evening, especially considering that a tired and pregnant Tara, who routinely policed Bill’s impetuous comments, had fallen asleep on the couch early. And Bill hadn’t even given her a hard time about bringing a dinner date.  
After a round of drinks and dessert - Maggie’s famous strawberries and cream cake - Scully grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. 

“Going to bed so soon, Dana?” Her mother asked.

“It’s been a long week. I’ll be up early, though, to help with breakfast. Promise.”

“Goodnight,” everyone had called as they headed up the stairs, creeping past Matthew’s room, where her nephew had been put down not long after helping Auntie Dana open presents. He had screamed and giggled with delight at tearing wrapping paper and pulling out tissue paper from bags. 

Scully was undressing in the small guest room at her mother’s house, preparing to change into flannel pajamas, when she turned back to find him down on one knee. It had been just the two of them. There were no grand gestures or public declarations of their love in front of her family. There was no ring. There would be enough time for that later.

This memory would forever be a private affair marked by her surprise and his tenderness. He didn’t even have to ask. She had said, “yes, of course,” before the question had left his mouth. Then he kissed her and they laughed and fell into bed with their shared secret. 

He reached behind her to remove her bra and kissed her bare chest, as a hand slipped under her trousers, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin as he made his way lower and lower. She tried to push him away, yet kissed him fervently. 

“We are in a house full of people,” she protested weakly.

“I know. It’d be so hot to fuck you right now,” he rasped. “Think you can be quiet?”

She groaned and grabbed his engorged cock. How was he so hard already?

“Take off my pants,” she demanded. 

He placed himself between her legs and undid the button, dragging her pants down her legs, slowly kissing down the goose pimpled flesh. Discarding the pants, he picked up a foot and held it up for inspection of the perfectly manicured toes.

“Your feet are so small and sexy,” he breathed, digging his thumb into the sole of her foot and dragging it from the heel to the tip of the longest toe, the sensation causing Scully’s breath to hitch. He paid each toe careful attention, then rested her ankle on his shoulder, turning his head and licking the side of her foot. 

Any stress she may have had about today seemed to evaporate from her body when his long fingers smoothed over her calf, massaging their way up her thigh. She melted under his touch, melted into the bed. This man had the firm mastery of a masseuse, the artistic hands of a sculpture, the way he could mold her body and shape her mind. She bit her tongue and tried not to call out his name.

“Everything. Take everything off,” she instructed, gaining some semblance of composure.

“You have the Egyptian toe,” he said, dragging her foot down his body to where his erection bulged in his pants. He rubbed it over his cock several times, moving his hips and grunting softly. Then, with one final thrust into her sole, he let her foot fall gently on the bed and tore his shirt over his head.

“And what does that mean exactly?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and resting her foot over his washboard abs.

“Well,” he continued, as he stood and unbuttoned his jeans, “the Egyptian toe is distinguished by a long big toe with the rest tapering off gradually.”

“Pants off,” she instructed. “Now.”

“People with Egyptian toes,” he said, standing and removing his pants and boxers, “are said to have a royal air about them.” 

His penis bobbed as he plopped down next to Scully on the bed, his large body enveloping her much smaller one. He was warm and hard against her. She drank in the sight of him, his long limbs and tanned skin, and glided a hand over his body down to his penis.

“I have a royal air about me?” Scully asked, enclosing her fingers around his cock and giving it a gentle tug.

“Mmmm yeah, I would say you do.”

She kissed him deeply and her hand quickened. He bit into her shoulder and cupped her breast, her nipple pinched between two fingers. His body was so hard - his cock, his warm and strong hands - it made her want to scream out in pleasure. But she was in the guest room of her mother’s full house and everyone was awake. What was she thinking?

It was like the time she’d sneaked Marcus into her room one night and they’d kissed and dry humped on her bed for two hours. Missy had been away at college - the one semester she’d attended - and her parents asleep down the hall. And now she was in naked in bed with her fiance in a bustling house.

“See the slope of your nose?” he said, his hand reaching up to demonstrate the gentle slope on her face. “The subtle curve? Very Queen-like. Royal.”

Scully pulled her head back and looked at him seriously. “Then I command you to fuck me,” she ordered.

He bowed his head. “As you wish,” he growled.

He pushed her roughly onto her back, grabbing her ankles and spreading her legs open. His hand smoothed over her cheek and made its way over her tender breasts as he drank in the sight before him. Scully felt exposed under his fiery wandering gaze. His hand finally came to rest on her pubis mons and, with the help of his thumb and forefinger, she blossomed before him. 

Using her own lubricant to wet his thumb,, he began forming small circles around her clit, never quite touching the spot that needed his attention most. He steadied her impatient squirming with a hand to her stomach, but continued his teasing, his eyes never leaving her pussy.

Unable to stand the intensity of his scrutiny, she hissed, “fuck me already.”

Looming over her on his knees, he positioned himself at her opening, the shining tip of his head pushing but not giving her the satisfaction just yet. Scully thrust her hips up at the titillating pressure and bit back the grunts that escaped her mouth for fear of being discovered. His thumb continued its ministrations, circling closer to her aching core. 

Then, leaning forward, his weight on the other hand, he hovered directly above her and slipped slowly inside, his thumb finally making contact with her clit, pushing lightly. 

“Mulder,” she gasped, arched into his hand.

He shushed her and then he pushed into her completely, buried himself deep inside her. Mulder removed his thumb from between them and rubbed it on Scully’s lips so that she leaned into his touch and kissed his wandering finger before he brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked her wet, musky flavor.

Scully, craving to be encompassed by him, crushed under his weight, consumed by his smell, to be filled in every way possible, jerked hips harder into his. He was deep inside her and she wanted more.

Taking the hint, Mulder pulled back and thrust into her, forcefully. They soon found a rhythm and he collapsed onto the pillow next to her, continuing to move inside of her, face-to-face, heartbeat to heartbeat, arms wrapped tightly around one another. Mulder kissed Scully deeply without closing his eyes so that they watched each other as they moved in unison. 

Each pump made her more breathless and wild. She tilted her hips so that his shaft rubbed her clit with just the right speed and intensity. 

“Mulder, I’m so close,” she whispered. 

Then it was one pump, two, and she felt sweet relief, spasming around him, clawing at his arms and biting into his pecks to muffle her cries.

Scully laughed breathily at his dismay when she pulled away, pushing him out of her completely. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you like this,” she reassured him, taking his cock in her hands, giving it a tight squeeze. He twitched in her grasp. Then, lowering her mouth to him, she treated him to one long, suck and came away with a soft pop. Scully licked her lip with satisfaction, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

Then Scully settled back onto the pillow, turning her back to him and giving her ass. 

“Ohh, yes. I love this position,” Mulder breathed in her ear, as his cock found its way between her cheeks, glistening with her orgasm. She pushed back further into him, relishing the sensation of him sliding between her ass cheeks. 

He continued to jerk his cock on her, teasing and not giving her the satisfaction she craved, even as she huffed out little annoyed breaths and pushed back further into him. Mulder swept her hair aside as Scully stretched her head back, her neck exposed to him. He kissed the nape and bit down hard, as he threaded his fingers through her tresses and gave a gentle tug. Then, repositioning himself at her entrance, he plunged into her.

They moved steady and strong. He had tangled one hand in her hair while the other massaging her ass, pulling deeping into her. She reached for her clit and came again quickly and, as her breathing finally softened, he stiffened and came too, moaning, his forehead sweaty against her back.

When their breaths evened, Mulder drew up the covers and wrapped himself tightly around her, their bodies damp and sticky on the cold winter night. Gradually, he softened inside of her, and she would occasionally spasm around him in her declining high, but he did not remove himself and she was happy to share this closeness for as long as possible. 

“How do you feel about a big church wedding?” she asked into the dark.

He was silent for a long moment. “If that’s what you want…”

“I’m just joking. That’s not what I want, Mulder,” she huffed a small laugh. “Imagine all that attention on us. It would be terrible. How do you see it?”

“I see us down by the river with a couple of friends.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, actually. In my mind it was a courthouse wedding.” 

“How will your mom feel about that?” he asked, placing his hands protectively on her stomach.

“My mom will be concerned with other matters,” Scully mused.

“When will you tell her?”

“Soon.”

Mulder turned off the bedside lamp and they fell asleep, still as close to one another as possible.


	3. Joy to the World

“When are you going to tell your mom, Scully?” Mulder asked, unbuttoning her silk shirt. It hung loosely over her breasts, the hint of a pink scallop bra peeking through. Her taste in lingerie had become distinctly more colorful in recent weeks.

Scully averted her eyes and said, “I don’t want to talk about this now,” as she reached for his tented pants.

His fingers trailed across her collarbone and down her sternum and finally came to a rest on her stomach. “She’s going to notice soon.” 

Scully took a deep breath. “Am I showing already?”

He shook his head slowly. 

“Then there’s still time.” She squeezed him and Mulder thrust into her hand.

The news had been unexpected. His head had been buried between her legs, his tongue deep inside, while his thumb grazed her clit. He was trying to make her come a third time when Mulder realized something was different. 

Mulder had made a religion of memorizing Scully’s body: her touch, her smell, the way she moved and squirmed when she needed release, the way her knees twitched when he teased her too long. And, yes, the way she tasted. They hadn’t been sleeping together long, but he considered himself an expert in the field of all things Scully. He could teach classes on her throaty moans, or the tang on his tongue when she came on his mouth.

He was the expert and she tasted different today.

“Scully, have you been doing something different lately?”

“What are you talking about Mulder?”

“Well, I don’t know quite how to put this, but you… um… taste different.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Not bad, just different.”

“I guess that makes senses,” she said.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you…”

Mulder climbed up the bed to face her, but she hesitated. 

“What is it?”

“I went to the doctor a couple of days ago to have some blood drawn.”

“Is everything ok? Is the… is it the cancer? Is it back?” His head clouded with dark possibilities, unsure of what she was trying to tell him. Memories of stiff bleached sheets and beeping monitors came back to him. It now seemed like a distant dream.

“No, no nothing like that,” Scully reassured, placing a hand on his chest.

“Okay…” Mulder urged.

“I was feeling tired and threw up one night. I didn’t have a fever, but wanted to get everything checked out anyway.”

Realization dawned on him. “The day you were late was because of the doctor’s appointment?”

“Right,” she histatated again, “and we hadn’t talked about it, so I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“Scully, are you sick or are you pregnant? Because it can go either way at this point.”

I’m pregnant,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

Mulder sat staring for a long moment, knowing he should say something, but her statement had rendered him dumbstruck and silent. For once in his long and eloquent life, he had no words. 

“I guess I wasn’t expecting it after…”

“That is amazing!” Mulder finally blurted. His eyes were transfixed on Scully’s belly, as if waiting for her stomach to suddenly spout. 

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you. We hadn’t discussed it after your um donation. And things have changed so much since then.” She searched his eyes and felt drawn to them. To her. 

“Yeah, they sure have.” His voice was deep and full of meaning as he peered down at her with heated intent. She was carrying a part of him and that would last forever. His hand drifted lower into the light curls where her thighs met. “How does that explain why you taste different?”

“Hormones are surging through my body right now, changing the pH balance of my vagina. When the pH balance is off, it can often change the taste.”

“Talk doctor to me, Scully. It’s so sexy,” he muttered into her hair and inhaled deeply. 

“I guess I’d never have any way of knowing that unless you’d told me.”

His mouth descended on her body. It was still small and tight. There was no discernible difference, but now he knew that cradled inside her was a tiny bundle of nerves that carried both of their DNA. Mulder moved tenderly over her now until they were both panting and spent. 

Mulder shook the memory away, caressing Scully’s thighs and ass. 

“You’re going to have to tell your family soon,” he said.

“I know. Next time we see them. But for now…” she trailed off and reached on her toes to kiss him deeply.


	4. My Weakness

A month after dinner with the Scullys, Mulder and Scully were married by the river. The untraditional March ceremony was held on a cool, gray day, with the promise of spring in light afternoon showers. Maggie and the Gunmen had joined them as their only witnesses. Maggie smiled a proud mother’s smile, her only remaining daughter now married. Perhaps this wasn’t the church wedding Maggie had envisioned, but her daughter was happy and that was enough. 

Frohike, dressed in his best suit, and only slightly mourning the loss of Scully, had officiated. With minimal scowls in Mulder’s direction, and a promise to care for Scully should Mulder meet an untimely demise, their best shortest friend gave a touching speech about finding love in unexpected places. 

Now, in an unfamiliar hotel room, long fingers smooth over her bare skin, encircling her waist. Mulder’s hands are large and warm, but his feather touch makes her shiver under the heavy blanket. His cock pushes firmly and slowly into her, the thin lining of her panties the only barrier between them. Her breath hitches and her back arches at the sensation.

Is this the somnambulant dry humping of a sleeping man or is Mulder awake and ready to go after a night intense fucking? Is her husband using her body in the midst of a wet dream? She finds the thought very erotic and pushes herself further back into his groin as her hand slips down to the front of her undwear, where she presses lightly on her swollen bundle. She is ready to go again.

With the backwards thrust, his fingers grip her hip. Hard. Mulder groans into her ear. If he had been asleep before, he is awake now as his hand guides her ass, sliding and rubbing into her with growing intensity. 

“Why are you wearing these?” Mulder tugs the elastic hugging her hip.

“I pulled them on when I went to the bathroom last night,” she breathes, “to prevent my thighs from getting too sticky. Your semen was dripping down my legs.”

“Good God, Scully,” he growls, snapping the band of her underwear and grinding his erection against her heat. “Let’s get into the shower and clean up so we can get you sticky again.”

Scully hums her approval and throws back the duvet. Her nipples tightened against the chill of the room and she cups her breasts with one hand in a futile attempt to warm them. The other hand discards her undies, as she steps out of them in motion on her way to the bathroom. She gives him a lingering look. 

Mulder watches his wife effortlessly slide out of the flimsy satin underwear and follows her swaying hips. When had the serious scientist he shared an office with become a sex kitten? Or, more appropriately, a sex-charged lioness ready to devour him. 

His new wife… radiant in a beige dress with red rose print and a white cardigan. The gang had met at dusk by the river, Mulder, in his crisp charcoal suit that he’d bought just for the occasion, gazing adoringly at his wife as the sun set. The sky was painted in crimson and purple, accentuating Scully’s hair. When they kissed, several young onlookers cheered them, and Scully blushed at the attention. She never was one for public displays of affection. 

Mulder hugged his new mother-in-law and Maggie embraced him as one of her own, kissing him on the cheek, proud mother that she was.

Then Mulder whisked Scully away to a hotel room in the Catskills. It was neither peak skiing season nor the picturesque and quiet summer, but the ground was lush and rainy. The perfect combination for shacking up in a fancy, over-priced hotel room in the woods with the love of his life. 

She beckons him to her now. Mulder, overcome by impulse, bites his bottom lip and follows into the bathroom, grabbing Scully from behind, wrapping his arms around her midsection, and pulling her close as she turns on the shower. He sinks his teeth into her, and she elongates her neck, accepting the vampire’s kiss, while his hands cup her breasts, small but weighty. The perfect fit for his hands. Mulder nibbles and he pinches, soliciting any response he can coax out of Scully.

The force of him is strong behind her and she gasps at the sudden sensation of arms and hands and teeth, bracing herself against the counter as her knees grow weak. She finds comfort in the solidity beneath and spies his devil’s grin in the mirror. He slips his cock between her legs. Her fingers find his clumsy prodding, pressing him into her folds and holding him in place as he coats himself in her slickness. Back and forth he glides, the sound of her arousal inflaming his own excitement.

“Get in the shower, Mulder,” commands Scully hoarsely, with more control than she believes to possess.

Complying, Mulder opens the shower door. Steam snakes around him, fogging the bathroom. Scully climbs in after him and they settle in the center, under a large rainfall showerhead. Mulder immediately grabs Scully, lifting her to his level, his hungry tongue in her mouth, fingers digging into her fleshy bottom. He kneads her ass, revels in the feel of her breasts mashed into his chest. Soft against hard; perfect complements to each other. 

Water sluices between them with Scully slippery against him and malleable in his hands. 

He recalls the way they had made love last night, for the first time as husband and wife. How she had teased him, trailing tight nipples across his body, face obscured by a cascade of hair as she peppered kisses down his torso until her tits brushed the tip of penis. He was swollen and sensitive. Each brush of the nipple causing his cock to twitch or thrust. She knew this, pushed her breasts together, their mounds peaked and so fucking pretty and perfect. She looked him dead in the eye and touched the tips of her breasts to the tip of his cock, toying with him. Pleasure shot through his body and he pushed himself between her tits. She held them together, with his erection between, and licked him with each thrust. 

“Some Catholic school girl you are,” he’d said and she smiled up at him and took him all into her mouth fully.

Now, Mulder breaks their kiss and places her down on the tile, turning her, and pushing her against the wall. But Scully shakes her head in protest and turns back to him. 

Scully smiles coyly up at him and, holding him tightly at the base of his cock, and sinks to her knees. Her plump little lips forming a ring at his very tip. She hardly even makes contact, and Mulder grunts in frustration, jerking forward. He wants more, needs to feel her mouth around him. 

But Scully pulls away, pouting and glaring at him through wet, hooded eyes.

“Now, Mulder, you know that I’m in charge,” she rasps, tightening her grip on him. “Don’t make me stop. Because if you try anything, if you move, or thrust, or touch my hair, or try to fuck my mouth, I will stop.” She blinks innocently at him. “And I don’t want to stop. Do you understand?”

Mulder manages a nod. He throbs in her grip.

Satisfied, Scully inches her lips closer to him, but does not break eye contact. She trusts him to listen because he doesn’t want her to stop. Because last night, when she’d ordered him on his back and traced her breasts and her tongue down his body, he had listened and the pay off had been considerable when she showed him exactly what she could do with her mouth and body. 

“You’ve been holding out on me all these years,” he’d said with his cock as deep as it will go. 

Now, her lips touch him ever so slightly, the tip of her tongue darting out just for a little taste. Fat drops of water splash her face, running down her chin like a salivating animal. 

She stops again and surveys Mulder with a glare. Testing him. When he doesn’t flinch or protest, she turns her attention back to his cock. Her hand fits nicely around the veiny shaft and she strokes him, precum emerging from his meatus. She touches her tongue to his tip and licks the pre-ejaculation with one long, elaborate swipe.

“So good,” she says slowly.

Mulder does not react, but his eyebrows twitch and his jaw is set tight. 

Scully squeezes in an upward motion but nothing emerges, so she puts her mouth around his cock, taking him in fully again and moving in a slow rhythm. 

Mulder, good boy that he is, remains still and silent, awaiting further direction and enjoying the attention he’s receiving. It is glorious torture. 

After several minutes of stroking and sucking, she reaches up, like the hand of God granting forgiveness, to place his hand on the back of her head. A sign his obedience has been noticed. He can move again and, with this newly awarded freedom, Mulder strokes her matted hair, removing strands from her face so that he can see her mouth stretched around him, traces of last night’s lipstick staining his groin.

Her mouth is hot and wet and masterfully trained in the art of dick sucking. Though not willing to examine too closely where she might have picked up these skills, he is eternally grateful for her well-rounded education and her talented mouth.

“Scully,” he breathes, “you gotta stop that if we’re getting you all wet and sticky again.” He guides her up and tastes himself on her lips.

“Mmmm,” she moans, releasing him, “it’s a good thing I’m already wet.” 

Large drops rain down on them and Mulder reaches for the soap, a plentiful lather building as he rolls it. His sudsy hands roll her breasts, pushing them up and together, watching them bounce as they’re released. Then, turning her around, he works her back and hips, rubbing and massaging so that her head lolled in appreciation. 

As he reaches the curve of her ass, Mulder runs the heels of his palm down her mounds, gently pushing into the taut muscle. She shimmies back into him, so he reaches below, where her ass meets her thighs, pulling and parting her slowly, allowing his pelvis to settle there. She is bent slightly at the waist and open to him, and he can see where he can easily slip into her. 

After rinsing his hands, he plants a hand on her rump and runs a thumb along her seam, down her to where she is wet, gathering lubrication. Then, as his thumb makes the journey back up, he circles her sensitive pink asshole. Scully arches her back and her moans echo off the tile.

Mulder helps Scully straighten and finishes washing her, paying special attention to each little toe while she balances with one hand on shower bar. 

Upon finishing, he says, “why don’t you dry off? I’ll finish up in here and meet you in bed.”

“See you out there. But don’t be upset if I get started without you. You’d better hurry.” 

And with one last lingering look, she’s gone.


	5. Radar Love

Yesterday, as they arrived at their hotel in Tannersville and dropped all of their belongings in a pile near the front door, Scully had, without warning, pushed Mulder onto the bed and begun pulling at his belt. He was still in his suit, effortlessly suave, and Scully couldn’t wait any longer. She had considered asking him to hike up her dress and join the Mile High Club, but reconsidered quickly. They had fucked countless times, but never with him looking like this. And never had she been able to call him her husband. 

So, unable to wait any longer, she pulled off his belt, dragging his pants down his leg, and ran a hand up his length. He was only partially stiff, but she carefully took out his half-erect penis and held him in her hand.

Mulder had begun unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You’d better stop that,” she had warned.

“Yeah? Why is that?” he asked, looking confused.

“Because I want you looking like James Bond,” she had drawled, “when you when I come on your tongue.”

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back onto the bed, allowing Scully to do with him what she might.

“What about you? Do you keep that sexy dress on?”

“I think you’re forgetting that I make the rules,” she climbed his long trunk like a feral cat, “and there will be no questions.” With that she thrust her tongue into his mouth. 

“Oh, I like this game,” Mulder asked into her mouth. “What happens if I’m a bad boy?”

Scully sat astride him and sucked on that gorgeous bottom lip, plump and juicy against her tongue, as if it were the golden chalice and Mulder her religion. His neck strained as Mulder reached up to kiss her, but she resisted, pushing his head firmly onto the bed and considered an appropriate form of punishment. Releasing his lip, Scully reached for a pillow and placed it over his face. 

“You know,” she began and slid down his body, the tops of her breasts grazing over his fine white shirt, “in the Middle Ages mutilation was an accepted form of punishment.” Heat radiated off his body as Scully raked her nails over pectorals and obliques. Taut muscles twitched, but Mulder attempted to keep his body under control. His cock pressed against her breasts just as she came to stop at his pelvis, her face so close to the engorged member that she could reach out and lick it.   
Scully kissed the smooth red tip instead. 

“Now, Dr. Scully, I’m confused by our roleplay here. Are you the sexy Catholic punishing the handsome Jewish boy next door, or are you a powerful dominatrix subduing a married man?”

“Not another word,” she whispered and squeezed his cock for emphasis. 

Mulder fell silent as her tongue swirled around the head of his penis. Slim but skilled fingers held the shaft expertly and squeezed rhythmically. Scully watched his cock bulge and recalled all the times she’d felt him in the back of her throat, how warm and hard he was on her tongue, the way he’d called out her name, or, on especially desperate nights, how he’d been reduced to grunts and gasps. 

Heat rose from the depths of Scully’s core as she licked her lips and ground down onto Mulder’s leg, the knob of his knee hitting that sweet spot. And with that, her mouth descended onto this cock, taking him fully into her mouth.

Mulder groaned beneath and she appreciated the effort it took not to thrust into her after their day-long teasing. On the plane he’d draped his large coat over the two of them, his fingers inching up her dress to eventually press into that tight bundle of nerves. 

Stroking with one hand, caressing his balls with the other, Scully worked him into a frenzy. 

That’s when she felt it.

A hand on her head.

Fingers snaking into her tresses. 

Scully stopped and made her way up Mulder’s body, tossing the pillow off his face. Looking at him sternly, she saw defiant eyes glaring back at her, the wisp of a smile playing across his cocky face. 

“Sorry,” he rasped. His eyes said he was anything but sorry. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Mutilation?” 

“Worse.”

Scully dismounted Mulder’s eagerly awaiting body and made her way through the hotelroom to find the overnight bag, where she quickly found what she’d been looking for. Obscuring the object behind her back, she walked slowly back into the room, swaying her hips exaggeratedly as she approached the bed.

Excitement built with each step. They had never done this before. How would Mulder react to this new side of her? This new idea? 

He seemed open minded, generally. Only drew the line at anything that might hurt or make her uncomfortable. She had a feeling this would go over well. 

Back on the bed, Scully motioned for Mulder to move further up onto the bed. Obligingly, he settled with the crown of his head against the headboard looking positively delighted.

“What do you have in store for me?”

“Agent Mulder,” she purred, “due to gross insubordination,” dragged herself up his long legs, “you have been detained indefinitely.” Then she grabbed his arms, lifting them with force and pushing them down with her weight. Then she cuffed them to a post on the bed. 

“Agent Scully, I didn’t realize that my actions were illegal.”

“You think that will hold up in a court of law?” Scully pushed her breasts together and leaned into this face. 

Mulder made a good show of fighting against his restraints, golden biceps staining against the jangling cuffs. They weren’t tight enough to hurt him, but he wouldn’t be able to touch her again. 

He had been warned. 

Mulder inhaled deeply, his breath tickling her chest. 

“Now comes the toruture,” Scully said and pulled at his tie. 

“I hope the end comes quickly,” Mulder feigned distress. 

“Oh, do you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and slid off her underwear. “I think it could go on all night. Maybe even into tomorrow.”

“Have mercy on me, g-woman.”

“Never,” she breathed and tossed her underwear at him, where they landed at his chin.

Mulder grabbed her panties in his teeth and sucked at them.   
Noticing that Mulder’s penis had somewhat softened, Scully turned her back to him and lowered her mouth again. Back arched, she moved her ass side to side, and up and down, giving Mulder quite a show while sucking and licking him with such intensity that he was fully hard in seconds. 

Happy with the results in her mouth and hand, Scully turned to find Mulder’s green-speckled eyes watching her with passion and ferocity. The night was quiet and black away from city lights, the room lit by only a small lamp on the nightstand. But she could see those eyes sparkle. They were the most beautiful and soft eyes she had ever peered into. Those eyes brought peace and understanding in a world of chaos. 

His slow blinking broke her reverie, and Scully crawled up his body, wrapping a hand around his tie, pulling him hard toward her. She traced his lips but did not kiss him. Then, pushing his head into the pillow, Scully carefully straddled Mulder’s head and hitched up her dress. 

Mulder moved his arms to embrace her body, but the cuffs stopped him short, a growl escaping from deep within him. She smiled menacingly.

“Best fucking view,” he muttered. 

One hand held the dress, while the other used the headboard for support. Scully sank herself onto Mulder’s face, his mouth eagerly open. Inviting. 

“Make me come, Mulder,” ordered Scully. 

And, Fox Mulder, subdued on his back and hands restrained, used his lovely versatile mouth to lap and nip and kiss at her while she rubbed her pretty pussy all over his mouth. When she came, they locked eyes like two beacons drawn together, and the powerful Dana Scully crumbled.


	6. I'm Only Happy When it Rains

They leave the room in ruins. Teeth marks, tiny moon sliver, light scratch marks that mar their backs, and fingerprint bruises cover their bodies, rubbed raw and battered. 

Famished and sexy lazy, she hasn’t even brushed her mussed hair. It is thick with moisture and looks positively seductive. What a rare look at this carefree Scully, walking down the hallway in jeans and a fitted sweater. These are the moments he treasures most, when she’s shed her professionalism, stripped herself of poised sensibilities. When she allows herself to be at ease in his presence. 

It often happens right after sex. Another reason to make love to her as much as possible. Aside from the fact that she is astounding and generous and completely orgasmic in bed. 

He holds the door open for her as they exit the building into a cloud of mist and find his car in the parking lot. It’s not quite rainy enough for an umbrella and he hopes they won’t regret that decision later. 

“So, where are you taking me for this special breakfast you’ve been raving over?” Scully asks, clipping her seatbelt.

“Oh, Scully, you’ll just have to wait,” he teases and winks at her. 

“Oh, come on. Can’t you just tell me?”

Mulder puts the car in gear and pulls out of the lot. “All in due time, Scully. All in due time. You’ll like this place. I promise.”

“Is it close?”

“It’s kind of close.” His voice sounds too high.

“How far, Mulder?” Suddenly her food is being delayed and she isn’t happy. 

He scrunches his face. “About forty-five minutes,” he replies.

“I wish I’d grabbed a coffee on our way out, at least.”

He shushes her. “Don’t worry, it’s worth the wait,” Mulder assures. 

They pass through a small town, lush trees and blooming flowers line the sidewalk. The main road is small, filled with locals. It is a quiet Sunday, with many still at church. Scully hadn’t mentioned attending service, and he figures the restaurant won’t be crowded this early.

When Mulder turns onto a winding mountain road, it’s like they’re the only two people alive. He wonders what it would be like to whisk her away somewhere even more remote: a mountaintop in Switzerland, where they could live off the land, raise chickens and walk to waterfalls daily; a deserted island where there is nothing to do but bathe in the ocean and adore her body all day. 

Trees whiz by in a blur and there were a few scattered farms. He’s sure that this rural vibrant green on either side of them doesn’t exist south of Yonkers. It was such a stark contrast to the brown winter. The long time spent denying feelings. Now they flourished. 

Forty-five minutes later they park on the main drag in Tannersville in front of a coffee shop. Scully eyes Mulder cautiously as they exit the car and make their way to the door. There is a chill in the damp air and the mist is turning to droplets. 

“Twin Peaks Coffee and Donuts?” she cocks an eyebrow, as Mulder opens the door. 

His hand caresses her back, lingering so much longer than it normally would. But they aren’t at work, and they aren’t just partners anymore. He is allowed to touch her. And she likes his touch. He summons the courage and wraps his hand around her waist. Scully stiffens momentarily, and then she must have remembered that they aren’t at work, and settles into his body. 

“It’s not affiliated with the show in any way, but I thought it would be fitting for us. A small coffee shop in a strange little town,” says Mulder.

Just a few customers enjoyed their coffee or breakfast. Only one other person was in line ahead of them. 

“Does Phoebe Buffet work here?” Scully asks.

“Scully,” Mulder says in mock shock, “ is that a pop culture reference?”

“Missy and I watched the first season together. She related to Phoebe.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Monica?”

Scully smiles at the memory, eyes far away. Mulder leans in to plant a kiss on her forehead. 

“I think she would have liked this place,” Mulder offers.

“I think you’re right. Seems like her kind of place. I wonder if they have open mic night. She would sign up.” 

This sudden openness takes him by surprise, because Scully rarely mentions her sister. She treats Missy’s life and memory like a sacred and private treasure, keeps it locked deep inside herself and never opens the box. At least not while he’s around. He wondered if she cried at night, or in the tub, when he isn’t there. 

But now the smile on her face brings him hope. 

When their turn comes, they order coffees and the specialty donuts Mulder convinces Scully are the highlight of the trip. Because what was the point of coming all the way out here just for coffee? 

Scully picks a booth near the window with a view of the main street as Mulder sets down the plate of half dozen colorful donuts. They stand out so clearly against the dreary and grey.

Scully eyes him skeptically. “Isn’t this a bit too much for just two people?”

“No, no, we’re not going to eat them all. Consider this a tasting. Take a nibble from one, cleanse your palette with a sip of this aromatic coffee, and repeat.”

“You’re quite the connoisseur.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it. I’ve been clogging my arteries for years, doc.”

“As your doctor, I am horrified to hear that,” Scully deadpans, lifting her eyes from their shared breakfast plate. Those eyes could sink ships. He sinks in them every single day. 

“But you’ll approve of the donut selection. I guarantee it,” Mulder placates. 

He picks up a donut and brings it close to her mouth. She looks unsure and licks her lips, eyeing him as if he were offering her a fluke worm instead of a donut. Mulder’s certain she is rejecting the offering, but then Scully parts he lips and leans in. 

“What is it,” she asks, suddenly hesitant.

“Key lime coconut,” he growls seductively. 

Looking pleased and licking her lips again, Scully inches closer. Then she opens her mouth and takes a bite. Not the small, dainty, lady-like bite he is expecting. This is a starving and drunk bite. Nearly half the donut is gone. Granted, it’s fairly small. 

Scully closes her eyes, savoring the taste. Her neck arches and Mulder is suddenly transported to last night, when she’d climbed up his body, teasing and licking and sucking, with him still clad in his best suit. She’d grabbed his hair and fucked his face, came on his mouth. She’d said she wanted to come on his mouth with him looking like James Bond and he was happy to oblige. 

Then she’d lined him up to her entrance and sank down onto him, his secret agent pants and boxer briefs around his ankles, the once-crisp shirt rumpled and smelling of her, and rode him frantically. He hadn’t been able to touch her, cuffed to the bed, but it was the best view in town. Working together, building to a frenzy, they rocked rhythmically and finally came together. 

His stomach growled and Mulder came back to the present, to the woman sitting before him ravishing a defenseless pastry.

She swallowed her portion of the donut and looked at Mulder, seemingly pleased.

“What else have you got?”

“Well,” says Mulder, dropping the donut, “there’s the decadent bacon maple, a traditional apple cider, a seasonal lavender, an adventurous pistachio, and, of course, the classic blueberry. Now, take a sip of coffee.”

Each picks up the oversized mug with a cuddly brown bear on it. Mulder takes a loud, appreciative sip and Scully follows.

“Damn fine cup of coffee,” Mulder quotes.

Scully hums her agreement. “Big fan of the show?” she asks.

“Yeah, it was a great show. Reminds me of the kind of work we do.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Mulder, genuinely surprised, sets his mug down. “Seriously?”

She shakes her head and takes a long sip for her mug. 

“Well, as I said, it’s not unlike our work. Small towns, odd people, greasy food. A devilishly handsome law enforcement agent trying to get to the heart of a mystery. You should watch it some time. If you can find it anywhere.”

“It didn’t seem like my cup of tea,” she says into her coffee. “So to speak. I’m mildly curious now, given the line of work I’m in. And my partner.”

A coy smile plays across her lips. Scully picks up a purple donut, brings it to her nose, and inhales the scent. Her arm reaches out slowly, offering Mulder a reciprocal bite. It sits cradled in deceptively dainty fingers, between perfectly manicured nails.

Her eyes urge him forward and he is caught in the tractor beam, slipping ever closer to the offering. Mulder smells Scully’s hand cream and the sugary lavender confection. Then he takes a bite and the cake donut fills his mouth, but an extra piece falls off and hangs from his mouth, falling into his lap. 

Scully is too dignified to laugh at him. He’s grateful for her grace.

They take turns tasting the rest of the donuts, each one more sugary than the last, until their stomachs ache. An assortment of semi-eaten food litters their plate as they sit in a comfortable silence finishing their coffees. 

“I think I could use a nap after this meal,” sighs Scully.

“Then that’s just what we’ll do.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Scully says, cleaning up their table. “I talked to my mom yesterday and she thinks we should all get together with Bill and Tara to celebrate this joyous event.”

“You think he’s going to try to kick me ass?”

“It’s definitely a possibility.”

Her words are not reassuring, and while the religious, military-efficient Bill has never physically tried to harm him, Mulder’s never impregnated his sister out of wedlock before. And then had a wedding without inviting family. This would definitely be the most interesting meeting with Bill he’s ever had. Mulder’s already one sorry son of a bitch in his eyes. 

Not that Mulder is worried. He’s had his fair share of experience with awkward, or downright disastrous family gatherings for that matter, and he’s pretty confident he can navigate an older brother. He did marry Scully, after all. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel for that nap,” Mulder says, setting down his empty mug. 

It’s raining when they leave and run the short distance to the car, laughing, feet splashing, and make their way to the hotel room and their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twin Peaks Coffee and Donuts, a real place in Tannersville on Hunter Mountain, didn't open until 2012, but it seemed to fit this story. In my head Mulder would really like it, hence the creative liberty there.


	7. Rainy Days and Mondays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days later than intended, but here is the latest chapter. Thanks for hanging in there!

It happens to be raining the day she received the phone call. 

Scully is slightly dazed after having had blood drawn at the gynecologist. Another long week and she is tired and hungry, and as gentle as the nurse is, filling several tubes with her blood did nothing to abate her rattled nerves. A soda and some protein will take care of that. A glass of wine too, but that’s obviously out of the question. 

But, despite the long week, it’s been a good day as she nears the end of the first trimester and Scully feels as though she is passing some grand test. She’s almost out of the woods. So many fears zoomed through her head when she discovered she was pregnant: her ova, abduction. Would she have a healthy baby? 

Questioning this pregnancy causes an acrid taste in the back of her throat, so Scully is happy. Just… happy. 

Scully holds the small black and white pictures and states the blob. It looks like nothing, truthfully. But it’s the most beautiful blob she’s ever seen in her life. Excitement builds at the thought of showing Mulder how their baby is growing. 

He’d come with her to the first appointment. Had held her hand, stroked her thumb with his, and they listened to the heartbeat. A soft thrumming filled the room and tears filled his eyes. They interlaced fingers and listened to their baby.

Later he’d taken her to her home, peeled the clothes off her body so slowly, taking his time to kiss every part of her body with care and love: her forehead, each toe, her shoulders and the backs of her knees, to finally land on her abdomen, where he rested his ear, listening so intently, as if the baby’s heartbeat were audible. He couldn’t, of course. But that didn’t stop him from trying, arms tight around her midsection. She stroked his hair and watched him as tears stung her eyes, chastising herself at how nervous she’d been to tell him.

A torrential rain drenches Scully instantaneously, as if stepping under a waterfall. The sky is low with heavy clouds, her coat is soaked before she even begins to fumble with her large umbrella. Scully, too elated to care, takes long quick strides to the car. 

Inside, tossing the umbrella into the back, Scully tucks curling hair behind her ears, wishing she’d worn a raincat instead of wool. That wet dog smell upsets her stomach, which has been sensitive enough. 

The ride home is short, even waiting in rush hour traffic. Mulder will join her soon, hopefully with takeout. Then they can look at sonogram pictures together, knowing he’ll gaze adoringly at them. That tiny shrimp-like blob is the most amazing picture she has ever seen. And she can’t wait to share it with Mulder, who’d wanted to come, but got indefinitely delayed with a potential X-File.

Scully suspects her absences, whether pursuing potential suspects or interviewing victims, will become more prevalent as she grows bigger and the baby’s due date nears. Not to mention maternity leave. Would she even continue to work in the basement after the baby is born? She can’t see herself leaving the basement. Luckily, her mom will be over the moon to have a grandchild in close proximity. A chance to be a full-time grandma.

The phone buzzes from the passenger seat, snapping Scully from her thoughts. She considers pulling over to answer, but decides to wait the few minutes until she reaches her apartment. Round the street of her building, the phone sounds again from the seat next to her. A muted cry. 

Something roils in Scully’s stomach, an uneasy clenching, and she puts a palm to her belly. A spot becomes available with a squeal of tires and Scully is ever grateful for the prime location - right in front of the steps. With a quick look at her phone, she grabs the umbrella and bag and runs for the entrance, shaking herself of excess water as the door slams behind her.

Inside the apartment is warm but dark, swathed in deep shadow. Scully drops her belongings into a wet pile on the floor with a sigh, relieved to be away from the rain and traffic.

Scully’s eye catches a red blinking light from across the room. The answering machine. She crosses the room, wondering if it was Mulder calling to ask if the baby preferred Thai or Chinese tonight. As Scully presses the button to listen to her messages, her cell phone begins to ring again - a muffled sound from deep in her bag, which sits in the soaking pile by the door. 

On the machine a woman is calling from a hospital. 

Scully’s stomach clenches painfully.

There has been an accident. 

Her heartbeat quickens.

A Mr. Fox Mulder has been brought in.. 

Vision blurred, Scully closes her eyes and tries to shake off this dream. This can’t be real.

Would she mind coming in as soon as possible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't called 'Next of Kin' for nothing.


	8. Misery is the River of the World

The cold is so overpowering that it threatens to immobilize her, freeze her right in her tracks like a statue. The hallway is endless and she is so sluggish, she thinks she will never make it to Mulder’s side. She thinks if she can just find a bed and sleep, then she will have the energy to find Mulder. 

Her mind is in a panic. With slow realization, Scully finds she cannot remember the car ride to the hospital. Muscle memory and highway hypnosis (or shock) is a wondrous thing, if it means arriving at the emergency room in one piece. 

There has been an accident. 

The words play through her head, a skipping record, and, without more information to go on, Scully imagines only the worst. His limp body on the bed, tubes protruding from his mouth and arms, shrill beeping monitors and forced oxygen. Brain dead, the doctor will say.

Now she pushes through the grey swinging doors into the ER, frantic and breathless, asking the nurse to help her find her partner, Fox Mulder. Where is he? What room? And the nurse’s voice is distant and hollow, just under ragged breaths, attempting to calm her. 

If Mulder is awake, he shouldn’t see her like this. Scully is always the strong one. But any attempt to remain calm is squashed by the overwhelming need to see him. 

Two women, a doctor and nurse, lead Scully to a quiet corner and offer a hard plastic hair. This can’t be good. It’s a secluded, away from prying eyes. They’ll say they did everything to save him, but it was too late. But if she’d just gotten here earlier. If she’d pulled over and picked up the damn phone, driven straight to the hospital, then she could have saved him herself. She knows how to save him. She could save him.

Muffled voices, as if they are speaking underwater, are telling her that Fox Mulder was brought in at 4:47pm after his car was hit by a drunk driver. There is extensive damage to Mr. Mulder’s left side, where he was hit: broken knee, minor internal bleeding, minor brain swelling. 

“The surgeon is in with him now,” voices drone on. “He’s in the best hands possible and both internal bleeding and brain swelling will be corrected tonight, but he will be in a coma for the…”

Checking her watch, Scully sees it’s now nearly 6:30. She asks, “When can I see him?” interrupting the doctor.

“Miss Scully,” the nurse begins hesitantly, “it’s going to take some time…”

She knows the drill. She won’t see him until he’s stable, because this isn’t a case and he hasn’t been admitted to the emergency room under mysterious or, god help her, unexplained reasons. He’s here because of a car accident and she has no jurisdiction over the doctors working to save him. Sitting back, resigned and tired and cold, Scully sighs.

The doctor and nurse leave with a promise to keep posted on Mr. Mulder’s progress. 

The bustle of life, doctors and nurses, patients and visitors, roars within the walls of the hospital, but Dana Scully’s life has been put on hold. Like, so many others in the emergency room she sits and waits. Hugging herself against the chill settled deep within, the dichotomy of cold and panic at war.

When Maggie arrives, troubled but calm, at nearly 7:30, Scully looks up dazed and does not remember calling her. She must have. Her mother gives her a sandwich and Scully smiles. Always a mother, Scully thinks. Is this what she’ll be like with her own child?

The bread is dry and tasteless in her worry, but the baby needs food, so she eats. It settles heavy with the worry in her gut. Her mother sits wordlessly beside her, but rests a hand on Scully’s bouncing knee to settle it. 

Mother and daughter ate stale hospital sandwiches in silence and when she was finished, Margaret reached for Dana’s hand, covering it with her two warm ones, as they waited.

Scully held on tight to that lifeline, like her mother’s hand would save her from going under. There were times she was the strong one, but tonight there wasn’t enough air in the room, weighted and heavy and dark. She was drowning. Would it always be like this for them - tragedy overshadowing whatever happiness might come their way?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride!


End file.
